A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (18 page)

Then suddenly, it hit her. Maybe she’d known it all along. Maybe that’s why she’d come to the bakery that evening. She looked at her uncle. "Uncle Hank. I just had a brilliant idea."

He lifted his eyebrows expectantly. "I’m all ears."

She paused while she thought it through. The more she thought, the more her heart raced. Yes, this could be perfect.

Jessie grinned. "Okay, first tell me: how do you feel about polka dots?"

N
ate couldn't bring
himself to look at the lease. He kept it tucked between the seats of the SUV. He had a list of things he needed to do to get his business going, a series of menial and significant tasks. He tackled a few and tried to pretend that he didn't feel rotten.

The things he'd said to Jessie — he'd had no business. He shouldn't have spoken to someone he loved that way. But when he'd seen the disappointment in her eyes and known that he'd hurt her, he'd lost control. Big time. And knowing Jessie and how sensitive she was, there was little possibility of repairing the damage.

A few days after the argument, Quinn appeared at his doorstep. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, and he looked nervous. He was sober for a change. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Nate replied. There was a pause before he added, "Do you want to come in?"

"Sure."

They sat on Nate's couch and talked about everything else: the weather, the ball game, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Finally, Quinn said, "I'm getting sober. My life is...not what I want it to be. I've hurt you, and I've hurt Caryn. And Jessie, of course. I don't recognize who I am sometimes. I want to get better."

Nate's shoulders relaxed. "I support you."

"I knew you would." Quinn shifted, and he crossed his ankle over his knee. "I want to apologize to you, because what I said about Jessie, and implying that she was flirting with me...that was really shitty. And it wasn't true. She completely told me off, and I guess I was pissed." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Caryn told me I have a drinking problem. I think it's true. Anyway, I needed to apologize to you because I'm an ass. But you know, you're wrong when you say that I think I'm better than you. You've always been my best friend. It's just that I've been screwing that up lately."

Nate's throat felt tight. In all the years he'd known Quinn, he'd never heard this kind of apology. It was the best thing he could remember ever happening between them. He held out his hand. "I'm here for you. Always."

Quinn accepted the handshake and embraced him. "Thanks, man."

They didn't talk for long before Quinn excused himself and mentioned he had a meeting to attend. Nate closed the door behind him and stood for a few minutes in the kitchen, alone with his thoughts. Quinn had always been brave. It had taken guts to come over and apologize. Nate had been an ass, too — to Jessie. Deep down, he knew he was only making excuses when he told himself that Jessie wouldn’t forgive him. It wasn't about him being forgiven. It was about righting a wrong.

As he grabbed his jacket and left his house, Nate knew where he was going, but he didn't know what he'd do when he got there. He smiled as he thought about Jessie saying that she often turned off her brain while her mouth was running. Didn't that mean that her words must have been coming from the heart? Not enough people opened themselves up that way. He loved her for that.

He loved her, period. And she needed to know it.

J
essie was alone
when she heard the knock. She thought maybe Wren had come over. But when she opened the door, she saw Nate. Standing there. Staring at her like a lost puppy.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." She kept a hand on the door, not knowing how she should respond. "Did you come to get your things?"

"No. I don't care about that." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I came to talk to you."

Her fingers tightened on the door. "It's late," she said, even though it was barely nine. "I have to get up early."

"I know. I don't want to take your time. Not too much of it, anyway." His green eyes searched her face. "I have two things to say. One, I'm sorry. I said some terrible things to you, and I was wrong. You don't need to forgive me tonight, but I hope you will think about it and forgive me some day."

Jessie swallowed and nodded. "It's okay."

"No," he said, inching forward. "It isn't." He paused. "Do you remember that summer when you were working at Madame Rousseau's as a psychic? And I stopped by and you gave me that reading?"

Despite herself, a small laugh escaped Jessie's lips. She'd taken the job reluctantly, manning the crystal ball on Tuesday and Thursday nights so Madame Rousseau could take her kids to swimming lessons. "Yes. You had twenty dollars to burn. You told me to tell you something profound about your life. And I said —"

"And you said that the spirits didn't take orders. And then you told me that I was destined to have a tragic love affair that would change me forever."

"I'd been reading The Great Gatsby," she said. "It was assigned reading for senior year English —"

"And I knew you were making it up as you went along," he said, coming closer. He gently lifted her hand and held it in both of his. "But I fell completely in love with you that night. With your energy and your humor. I loved that you put your entire heart into giving out fake psychic readings, and all these years later, I still see you giving your heart to everything you do."

Darn it, that had caught her by the feels. Her eyes began to sting. "I don't know what to say," she whispered. "Thank you."

"For loving you? I hope you know how easy that is." He brought her hand to his lips. "I also hope that you know how sincere I am. I love you, Jessie. I've messed everything up, and I'm a complete jerk, and I still love you. And if I thwart a million more of your business plans inadvertently, I will love you. Because I can't imagine a day when I wouldn't want to share everything that happened with you, or an evening when I didn't think of you as the brightest star in my sky."

That did it. She was crying. "I missed you." She threw her arms around his neck, melting against him. They were perfect together — a foregone conclusion. She may have spent the last few days standing on her own two feet, but life felt so much better with Nate in it. "I love you so much," she whispered. "Please don't go again. Not even when I tell you to."

"I promise," he said, and pulled her tighter against him. After a moment, he released her and took a half-step back. "Look, about the space —"

"It's yours. I want you to have it. I have it all figured out," she said. She couldn't stop smiling if she tried. "You know the empty apartment above Hedda's? I'm going to convert it to a large kitchen and a small retail space. Most of my business doesn't come from foot traffic, anyway. Plus, I love working with Uncle Hank and Emily. I'll be happier being close to them." That bakery was home, and she didn’t want to leave it.

Nate's face brightened. "And Uncle Hank is fine with that?"

"He's thrilled! He loves the idea of converting it. He never wanted to be a residential landlord, anyway. The best part? He's waiving the rent. He'll be a partner instead, and he'll help me with some of my start-up costs."

"Wow. It's perfect." He shook his head. "I don't know what to say. You've clearly been busy for the last few days."

"You don't know the half of it," she laughed. "I ordered three sets of knives!"

"Wait...what?"

"I'm so happy you're here." She laced his fingers with her own. "You have to come inside. I've been dying to tell you everything."

C
onstruction
on the old apartment above Hedda's took a little longer than expected, but it was coming along, and Jessie expected to open her chocolate shop by September. There would be a pink and white polka-dotted awning, of course, and white scroll on the windows: Sweet Possibilities. "I considered 'The Chocolate Crush,'" Jessie would explain when asked, "but it sounds kind of violent."

While she waited for her shop to be finished, Jessie spent nearly all of her work hours — and long hours afterward — fulfilling orders for a number of large retail clients. They'd found her from word of mouth after the "Sweet Relief 5K"...which she and Nate had completed side by side, though hardly in record time. It didn't matter. They agreed they'd do it again, and they felt good knowing they'd helped to purchase a new roof for the food shelf.

Nate's venture — Cove Fitness — opened in early August to a stream of eager clients. He'd hired staff in advance, but he scrambled to find more personal trainers to meet the demand. He was successful beyond his wildest dreams, but it came as no surprise to Claire. Or to Jessie.

As for Wren and Jax, they may have worked in showbiz, but there was no drama at the altar. Wren looked stunning in a white chiffon gown and a veil that trailed elegantly behind her as Uncle Hank walked her down the aisle. Jax mostly minded his manners, though he did strip down to his boxers and jump in the infinity pool toward the end of the reception. And Jessie's dress fit. Like the proverbial glove, actually. In all the years she lived, she would never forget the look on Nate's face when he first saw her in it.

"You can't wear that," he said. "You'll upstage the bride."

"Yeah, right," she said. "You remember my cousin Wren, right? The tall, gorgeous one?"

Nate pulled her into his arms. "In case you haven't noticed, I tend to not notice things like other women when you're around. With that dress, you may as well have put blinders on me."

Jessie loved living with Nate in the little cottage. He was probably the only man in the world who wouldn't insist on stuffing Prince Travis in a plastic bag filled with mothballs and hiding him in the attic. Also, after only a week of living with beige walls, Nate had agreed that Jessie could add some color to the space. He'd even helped her to paint the living room a bluish-green with white trim.

Oh, and she'd finished To Thrill a Cockingbird. She'd even shared some of the passages with Nate, though she'd discovered that he couldn't focus on the text for very long. He quickly became preoccupied with trying to get her into bed. Not that she minded.

All in all, even though Jessie decided it was the best summer she'd ever had, she knew that things would only get sweeter.

And to think that all of it had come from drinking too many mimosas.

T
hank
you for
taking the time to read
A Sweet Possibility
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Finally, I would like to thank the many amazing people who comprise my writing support system and made this book possible. To my insightful beta readers, my eagle-eyed editor Amanda Sumner, and the ever-understanding Mr. Charles: thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

I
n her thirty
-six years on the planet -- not including any past lives -- Anna had come to recognize two truths. The first: natural toothpaste made with baking soda and essential oils did not clean her teeth. The second: the holidays? Not her thing.

She couldn't quite put her finger on why. It was all nice enough, what with the lights and the brightly-colored gifts. The food was great, certainly. Anna could get behind a plate of Christmas cookies and a tumbler of eggnog, and that's where she found herself at most festive events. But she'd never managed to feel the outpouring of excitement that she was expected to feel at that time of year. To her, the holidays were just another list of social events and obligations. Fortunately, she was pretty good at faking it.

"Hello, I'm Anna Tumblesby, and I think the holidays are magical." Anna smiled brightly at her reflection, paused, and then glanced over her shoulder. "Too cheesy?"

"Uh, a bit." Anna's youngest sister Flossie was lying flat on her back on the four poster bed, her gray stockinged feet resting on the top of the headboard. "You sound like you're hosting a Christmas spectacular or something. You know, with tap dancing elves and candy canes with jazz hands." She was staring straight at the ceiling, but she fluttered her hands to demonstrate. "Don't tell Charis I said that. She'll get ideas."

Their sister Charis was the one who love love
loved
the holidays. Always had. As a child, she was cast in the Archer Cove Thanksgiving Parade as Little Miss Christmas for four years straight, where she got to sit in Santa's sleigh and throw candy to onlookers. Those days she was on to bigger and better things, like planning the Archer Cove Holiday Festival. After years of nagging, she'd finally managed to rope Anna in as her festival co-chair: a role Anna had regretted accepting every day since.

She inhaled deeply and tugged at the furry white hem of her dress. Downstairs in the lobby of the Archer Cove Inn, a camera crew was setting up in front of the roaring fire. Fair isle stockings were hung across the stone fireplace with care, and live garland was strung through the bannister leading to the second floor, held in place by red velvet bows. Downstairs, Charis was probably enjoying a cup of peppermint tea. But upstairs in room 202, Anna was freaking the heck out, and Flossie wasn't even paying attention.

"In fairness to me," Anna said, "I
am
hosting a Christmas spectacular. Sort of. A nondenominational Christmas spectacular." She tugged her silver hoop earring free of her hair and made a mental note not to repeat the words "nondenominational Christmas" for the cameras. It was the kind of statement that would make her look foolish, and win a long sigh from Sandy Thane, the prune-mouthed chair of the Chamber of Commerce.

Blame it on the winter doldrums, or the anxiety of facing another holiday season alone in the great, old inn. Anna needed to be busy -- always had. In the three years since she'd first come to own the inn, Anna had become accustomed to its rhythms. She was busiest beginning in the late spring and continuing through early fall. There was a slow down until the leaves changed and business burst again, and then an interminable stretch of quiet. She barely knew what to do with herself when only a few rooms were filled.

That year, Anna had finally decided that instead of sitting around the inn gathering cobwebs, she would assist Charis with planning the holiday festivities. A town-wide cookie swap. Caroling down Main Street. A Jingle Bell dance at the community center. Basically, the same old festivities that had been planned for as long as Anna could remember. Sandy had appointed Anna co-chair of the Festival Planning Committee, but had promptly vetoed all of her new ideas. "Ice skating? What if it's too warm? And the sheer
liability
." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I'm afraid we can't risk it."

In the midst of planning, Charis had secured a local news segment and appointed Anna the official spokesperson for the event. "You're so much better at these things than I am, Anna," she'd said, tilting her head slightly to deliver the compliment. "The cameras love you, and who knows? Maybe you'll drum up some business for the inn."

The only problem was...
her
. Anna was a behind-the-scenes kind of gal. When she got nervous, she jumbled her words and everything came out all wrong. It all went back to her first stage appearance in the second grade Thanksgiving play. For some reason blonde, blue-eyed Anna had been cast as a Native American, and she had one line: "I brought the maize." When the time came for her to walk on stage, Anna promptly peed her pants and ran in the other direction.

She watched Flossie in the mirror. "We're being profiled on "Connecticut Sunrise". I have to come up with something to say." Preferably something brilliant and memorable.

"Have fun with it." Flossie reached up to grab her toes. "Why don't you keep it simple and just say, "Hi, I'm Anna. Welcome to The Holly Jolly Bullpen."

Yes, that's how they had been secretly referring to the inn. It was Holly Jolly headquarters for the officially-named "Festival in the Cove". But "Holly Jolly Bullpen" was used as a joke between her and Flossie. No one else would understand. "I can't say that," Anna replied. "It would undermine the dignity of the piece."

That got her little sister's attention. Flossie rolled to one side without bothering to lift her head. "Did you say "dignity"? You're wearing an elf suit."

Anna's hands flew to the green crushed velvet of her dress. The hem fell halfway down her legs and was tinged with white faux fur. Her waist was cinched with a wide black leather belt with an enormous gold buckle. Charis had selected it and assured her that it was perfect for the news segment. "It's not an elf suit," Anna replied. "Just because it's festive."

Plus, would an elf suit reveal her cleavage so flatteringly? No, it would not. Would an elf suit make her legs look so good when paired with black ankle boots? Case closed. This was a fun, holiday-themed dress. She could easily wear it to any cocktail party. "Maybe it's a little ironic," Anna ventured.

"Yeah, it's an elf suit. Ironically, you're wearing it as a dress." Flossie sat up on the bed, tousled her long, strawberry-blonde hair, and yawned. "How long is this going to take, anyway? I want to take a nap." It was eight o'clock in the morning.

There was a knock at the door. "Yes?" Anna called.

"Miss Tumblesby? We have your mic."

"Come in."

The door opened and a small, wiry woman with close-cropped brown hair rushed in. "This will just take a minute," she said, and paused. "Do you mind if I unzip your dress a little?"

"No, go ahead." Anna pulled her long blonde curls to one shoulder and glanced at Flossie in the mirror. "You don't have to be here. If you're tired."

Flossie raised her shoulders half-heartedly. "It's fun. I'll be morally supportive. And there's nowhere I'd rather be today than in the Holly Jolly Bullpen." The sisters exchanged a smile in the mirror.

Once the microphone was fitted, they were ready. Show's about to begin, Anna thought. There was no turning back. No peeing herself. It was time to bring the maize.

Anna's limbs trembled as she walked down the stairs. Members of the town had come out to view the taping, and a few clapped when they saw her. Flossie giggled beside her. "Oooh, you're going to be famous."

"Anna! Oh my. You look
amazing
!"

Anna turned to see Charis's little sparrow-like figure bobbing excitedly.
She may have been in her thirties, but Charis was still Little Miss Christmas. Exhibit one: her candy cane earrings. Anna forced a broad but shaky smile. "Hey. Thanks. You don't think I look like an elf?"

"Oh my goodness no! You look adorable, and your aura is brilliant blue! Oh, and I brought some children with me," Charis said, gripping Anna's wrist between her warm fingers. "I hope you don't mind."

She'd brought...children? Oddly, it didn't surprise Anna. "No, of course not. The more the merrier."

"They're orphans," Charis whispered. (Of course they were.) "Children from the state-run home, poor darlings. The foster care system...I can't even talk about it. They could use a little Christmas cheer. We all could." She tilted her head and nodded solemnly. "I rented a bus. They're all so excited. There are a few counselors, too. To keep them away from sharp objects. And also because one of the little girls starts fires, bless her heart."

Anna sucked a breath as Charis's voice finally came to a halt. "Great," she exhaled. "Well, keep them away from the fireplace, I guess. And the kitchen."

"Oh, don't you worry." She leaned in closer and Anna smelled cinnamon on her breath. "You just go on up there and make us proud! We'll all be watching."

No pressure there.

Anna's attention turned to Devon Gail, the journalist who would be interviewing her. Devon had her arms outstretched and was waiting while someone from wardrobe pinned her gray jacket. Anna admired her dark skin and bright smile with a pang. Devon was gorgeous. Beside her, she was going to look about as attractive as forgotten leftovers.

"Anna," Devon beamed warmly, lowering her arms to clasp Anna's hands. "What a beautiful inn. So pretty and quaint. I'm really looking forward to our chat."

"Me too," Anna said, lying just a little bit.

Devon touched a finger lightly to her short, chic curls and ran a gaze down Anna's figure. "I love that dress. It's precious."

But something in her tone made Anna feel self-conscious. She'd opted for holiday festive. Devon had not. Anna adjusted the fabric around the belt. "Thank you."

A man approached then and explained what was going to happen. They had already taken a number of shots of the property and the town, and they'd done preliminary interviews to get the background. "Anna, Devon's going to ask you some questions about the festival," he explained. "It's going to be real low-key."

"We'll keep it conversational," Devon added. "Nothing to be nervous about. This is a feel-good piece."

Anna's mouth had gone dry, so she nodded and said, "Uh huh."

The crew had set two director chairs in front of the fireplace. Anna waited for Devon to take her seat before climbing into her chair. As she waited for the cue to begin, Anna took a deep breath and tried to relax. This was going to be fantastic publicity for the inn. A local television segment! She could be fully booked before the day was up. As someone adjusted the lights, she reminded herself to smile and enjoy. But then she felt the weight of everything that was resting on the interview: an inn filled with guests at the holidays. Could she be so lucky?

And suddenly, Devon had started. She smiled easily at the camera and leaned forward engagingly. "What do you think of when you think of the perfect holiday season? Ice skating and marshmallows? Sleigh bells in the snow? We're here in the idyllic town of Archer Cove, Connecticut, where one innkeeper is on a mission to create warm winter memories for the townspeople."

Anna's spine went rigid as Devon spun towards her. Relax, she told herself. Remember to breathe. Devon's smile was warm as sunshine as she said, "Anna, you've created the loveliest winter festival. Can you tell us a little bit about it?"

Shoot, her mouth was bone dry, and she could hear her own tongue unsticking itself as she attempted to answer. "The holidays...are a magical time," she began, a little breathlessly. "I've always loved the idea of families gathering together, and the contrast of snow and warmth. I wanted to create a winter like you'd see in a painting -- er, a postcard."

"And of course this brings in visitors, too," Devon added. "That must be good for business."

Anna started at the implication. "Y-yes, but it's not just about that. If people from out of town come to the inn to enjoy the festivities, that's a bonus."

She licked her lips with a dry tongue, desperate to explain herself. This wasn't about money, she was sure of it. This was about staying busy, being active. Being surrounded by people and not left with her own thoughts. But that wasn't the kind of thing one confessed to a journalist in front of television cameras.
Hello, I'm Anna Tumblesby, and I'm desperately lonely.

She opted for a change of subject. "We have a whole schedule of activities lined up. I'm terribly excited about the cookie swap. There will be an award for the best cookie, of course --"

Anna's words trailed as the corner of her eye caught a flash of movement. A man had just entered the inn and was walking down the makeshift side aisle of the viewing audience. He paused just on the edge of the shadows, but Anna saw him clearly enough, and froze.

She was barely aware of a stretch of silence, and then Devon cleared her throat. "So there will be a cookie contest, then?" She prompted. "That sounds like a lot of fun! How does that work, exactly?"

But Anna's attention was still on the man who'd just entered. "Yes," she began slowly, allowing her eye to move from Devon to the visitor. "There will be marshmallows."

Shoot. Was that really him? Did he actually have the unmitigated gall? Anna's mind unraveled as Devon shuffled some papers in her lap and gave a dry laugh. "I understand you and your sister have a special term for the inn during this festive time. Do you want to share what that is?"

They'd done a pre-interview with Flossie? She'd never mentioned that. "Oh," Anna forced a burst of laughter. "We call it the Holly Jolly Bull Penis. It's just a private joke."

With a swift whoosh, the air left the room. Devon's eyes widened, and she looked back down at her lap. Anna glanced out over the faces in the audience and the realization slowly hit. "Sorry," she murmured, teasing the fur trim on her dress again. "Did I say -- ? Bullpen. Holly Jolly Bullpen. Because, um, it's about a baseball reference? And just, you know, warm up. Warming up. There's the fireplace."

Well, there she went, headfirst off the cliff. It was a long, slow fall from here. Anna clenched her eyes shut and gripped her dress. "Um, would you mind if I...could I get a glass of drink? Not a drink. Alcohol, I mean." She exhaled. "Just water. My mouth is dry."

Devon blinked and her smile tightened. "We're live."